The Sacrifice (12 page)

“Are you dating Ralph?” Scott asked.

“No, we're just friends. I needed a ride to the party because my parents took away my driving privileges.”

Scott acted surprised. “Why did they do that?”

“I've had a few wrecks recently.”

“How many is a few?”

Yvette looked around as if embarrassed and answered in a quiet voice, “Five.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't quite hear you.”

“Five—since January,” she said a little louder. A few students laughed.

“Were they all your fault?”

Yvette nodded. “Yes,” then she added quickly, “but no one was hurt, and I promised my dad that I would be careful. I cried and begged, but he told me I couldn't drive again until I went to the Fender Bender Driving School and passed their safe driver test.”

“Have you taken the course?”

“I was supposed to start during summer vacation, but I was in no shape to drive after the night of the party. I think I was still in the hos- pital.” Yvette stopped. “Can I look at my sheet? I can't remember that part.”

“I'll give you a break while I talk to Ralph for a minute.”

Scott scanned the room. Most of the boys slid a little lower in their seats. Scott decided it was time to give Frank the spotlight he seemed to crave. “Frank Jesup, you're Ralph. Please stand up. I remind you that you are under oath.”

Frank slid out of his chair and stood. “Which do you want? The truth, the whole truth, or nothing but the truth?”

“All of the above, within the guidelines of the problem.”

Frank continued. “Why are the names in the case so corny? Betty Moonbeam, Sarah Rich, Ralph Risky?”

“It's often that way,” Scott replied. “Even in law-school competitions the professors who write the case histories do the same thing.”

“I don't want to look like an idiot spouting these names.”

Scott resisted an urge to tell Frank to sit down until he could cooperate.

“Don't worry, Ralph. You'll get used to it. Now, tell me, how did you and Betty decide to go to the party together?”

Frank stroked his chin. “I'd been wanting to spend some time with her. A lot of time if you know what I mean.”

“Did you phone her and invite her to ride with you?”

“No, she called me. Not that I was too surprised. She told me about the problems with her father and the car, but I think it was all an excuse to spend some time alone with me.”

“Over my dead body,” Yvette said.

“No comments,” Scott said. “I told Frank to be quiet while you were on the witness stand.”

Frank cut his eyes toward Yvette and said, “You should have seen the dress she was wearing. When she sat down in my car—”

“Don't go there,” Kay interrupted.

“Okay. I picked her up about eleven-thirty in the morning for the cookout at Sarah's house.”

“Had you had anything to drink before you got there?”

“Moi?”
Frank asked. “I don't drink anything but bottled water and Cheerwine.”

“Does Cheerwine contain any alcohol?”

“You're from North Carolina, aren't you? Cheerwine is like a Cherry Coke. It's bottled in Salisbury.”

“I know that,” Scott answered. “I used to ride my bike to Barnett's Grocery in the summer to buy a cold Cheerwine. But in a competition you might be in front of judges from someplace who've never heard of Cheerwine. The lawyer questioning the witness needs to make sure any uncertainties are cleared up.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure you didn't have any alcohol in your system when you and Betty started for the party?”

“Positive.”

“Any drugs?”

“Not even a Tylenol.”

“How far is it from Betty's house to Sarah's place?”

“About five miles. Sarah's house overlooks a pond and the seventeenth green of the, uh”—Frank thought for a second—“the Maurice Mulligan Memorial Golf Course.”

Scott smiled. “Now that's corny.”

“Yeah, can I change that?”

“No. Let's have a different Betty take up the story.” Scott spoke to the group. “We're jumping around tonight so as many of you as possible can see what it's like to be a witness. In a minute, I may ask one of you to be an attorney.” He pointed to Alisha Mason who stood up. “Alisha, right?”

The tall, dark-skinned girl nodded.

“Have you read the materials?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. You're in the car with Ralph. Were you concerned about Ralph's driving on the way to the party?”

Alisha looked at Frank. “He drove too fast and had his music turned up loud. I think he was trying to show off, but he didn't do anything crazy or wild.”

“Were you worried about your safety?”

“No. I was looking forward to the party.”

“When did you arrive?”

“It's about ten minutes from my house to Sarah's place so we got there about eleven forty-five.”

“Had the party started?”

“Not really. I wanted to be early so I could help Sarah with the last-minute preparations.”

“What did you do?”

Alisha counted on her fingers. “Cut up some fruit. Heated some nacho sauce in the microwave. Popped some popcorn. Put some drinks and ice on a table in the downstairs recreation room.”

“What kind of drinks?”

“Mostly Cheerwine.”

Several students laughed.

Scott smiled. “I haven't had a Cheerwine in years. Was there a punch bowl at the party?”

“Yes. But I didn't help with that.”

“Who fixed the punch?”

“Some of the guys. I think Ralph helped.” Alisha paused. “I can't remember the other character's name. Bill or Bob?”

“Billy Bob Beerbelly.”

“That's right.”

“What kind of punch was it?”

“Ginger ale, fruit juice, and scoops of rainbow sherbet floating in it.”

“Nonalcoholic?”

“I thought so. But now, I'm not sure.”

“Let's ask Joe about it.” Scott pointed to a tall, slender young man with a slightly pointed nose and light brown hair. “Your name, please.”

“Kenny.” The student's ears turned suddenly red, and Scott realized he'd found a shy student in the group.

“Would you like to be Joe Joker for a few minutes?”

“I guess so.” The lanky boy stood up. “But I'm not very good at telling jokes.”

“Can you tell me about the punch served at the party?” Scott asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Was there anything in it besides ginger ale, fruit juice, and rainbow sherbet?”

“Yes, sir.” The ears turned red again.

“What else?”

“Uh, we spiked it with vodka.”

“Who did it?”

“Ralph and me.”

“Who brought the vodka to the party?”

“Ralph brought it. It was in the trunk of his car. I went with him to get it after he and Betty got there.”

“Were you present when it was poured into the punch?”

“Yes, sir.”

Scott again addressed the group as a whole. “What kind of question did I just ask?”

Dustin Rawlings raised his hand. “The kind that's supposed to make the witness look guilty.”

“An incriminating question,” Scott replied. “Possibly. But I was thinking of something more basic.”

“A leading question,” Frank said.

“That's right,” Scott said. “A question that contains the answer. The witness either says ‘yes' or ‘no.' If Joe Joker was one of my witnesses in the case, the lawyer on the other side will object if I ask too many leading questions. How could I change my question about Joe's presence at the punch bowl so that it would no longer be a leading question?”

Janie Collins, who had been sitting on the edge of her chair, raised her hand. “You could ask, ‘Who was at the punch bowl when the liquor was poured into it?'”

“Exactly,” Scott said. “You only have five to seven minutes to question a witness in a mock trial competition and every question needs to bring out as much information as possible.”

Scott motioned to Janie. “It's Janie, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Janie, you are now the lawyer questioning Joe Joker. Take over.”

Janie's face flushed slightly. “What am I supposed to ask?”

“Are you familiar with the facts?”

“Mostly.”

“Try to get Joe to reveal important information based on the materials you've been given. You can use the sheet to help you remember.”

Janie turned toward Kenny. “Who was at the punch bowl when the liquor was poured in?”

“Ralph and me.”

Janie paused. “What happened next?”

“No,” Scott interrupted. “Too general. Ask a specific question.”

“Uh, how much vodka did you put in the punch?”

“Two quarts.”

“How big was the punch bowl? How many quarts or gallons could it hold?”

“It was this big,” Kenny answered, holding his arms out in front of him. “How much would that hold?”

“I'm asking the questions,” Janie said.

Scott smiled. “Good. Keep control of the witness. If Joe keeps that up, you could ask the judge to instruct the witness to answer the questions.”

Janie continued, “How strong was the taste of vodka in the punch?”

“Not much with all that fruit juice and sherbet floating around in it. I don't think some of the girls knew what we'd done to it.”

“Who drank the punch after it had been spiked?”

“A bunch of people. Me, Ralph, Sarah, and Betty.”

“Who showed the effects of the alcohol by the way they acted?”

“I don't know about anyone else. I had a pretty good buzz. I'd never had anything to drink so early in the day.”

Scott held up his hand. “Good job, Kenny. You sounded very genuine. Janie, your questions were well phrased. Anyone want to volunteer?”

The next hour and a half passed quickly. Scott asked most of the questions, but he let a couple of students play the lawyer role. They made it through the case to the sad part at the end when Betty Moonbeam ends up in the hospital after a wreck with a vehicle driven by a congenial redneck named Pete Pigpickin. Also on the scene at the time of the collision was a controversial witness named Billy Bob Beerbelly. The last girl to play the part of Betty Moonbeam squeezed out a fake tear as she described her pain and suffering following the injuries she received in the car wreck following the party.

“How do girls do that?” Dustin asked when she finished.

“She thought about something sad,” Yvette answered. “Like going out with you.”

“That's it for tonight,” Scott interjected before Dustin could counterattack. “Here's your homework assignment. Look over the problem and give me your first three preferences. Do you want to be Betty, Joe, Billy, Ralph, Sarah, Pete, one of the lawyers, and so on? I can't guarantee a specific role and everyone will practice different parts in preparation for the competition. The witness roles can be switched between male and female. For example, we can experiment with Barry Moonbeam, Ruth Risky, and Bonita Beerbelly.”

“When do we turn in our choices?” Yvette asked.

“Give them to Mrs. Wilson by the end of the day tomorrow.”

Most of the students began filing out. Janie came forward to Kay's desk.

“Can you still give me a ride home?” she asked Kay. “My mother had to use the car tonight.”

“Of course,” Kay responded. “Wait outside, and I'll be there in a minute.”

After all the students left, Scott asked, “How do you think it went tonight?”

Kay picked up the brown satchel she used to transport papers to and from school. “They enjoyed it. The boys will be calling each other Ralph Risky and Billy Bob Beerbelly in the hallways tomorrow.”

“Do you have ideas about the students who should play the different parts?”

Kay showed Scott a page of notes. “I took notes, but let's see what the kids want to do and plug our comments into their requests.”

“Should I call you?” Scott asked.

Kay hesitated. “No, I'll call you.”

Franklin Jesup Jr. had a reason for his tardiness to the mock trial meeting.

It started after supper with a routine household problem—a leaking hose in the washing machine. Frank's mother rarely washed clothes, but their housekeeper had been out sick, and Jodie's favorite pants were dirty and had to be cleaned before school the next day. Vivian Jesup put the pants in the machine and turned it on. She was in the kitchen arguing with Frank Jr. about a nasty scratch she'd discovered on the door of her new car after she'd parked next to his vehicle when Jodie came running upstairs.

“Water is all over the floor downstairs!”

Vivian rushed down the steps, and Frank followed at a more casual pace. Jodie was right. Water was everywhere. It had seeped out of the laundry room and soaked the carpet in the downstairs den. Worst of all, water had also flowed into the patio room his mother used as an art studio. A recently finished watercolor of Jodie was facedown on the floor when the water invaded the room. Frank heard his mother give a piercing scream.